


can we always be this close?

by patrickbrewer



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coda, Communication, DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE SEASON PREMIERE, Episode: s06e01 Smoke Signals, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Spoilers, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrickbrewer/pseuds/patrickbrewer
Summary: “You may have spent most of your life in luxury, but you grew up here, in that motel, on these streets, in our store. You’re you because of this town, and I think the hatred and disgust that you felt for it when you first got here is long gone.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 23
Kudos: 193





	can we always be this close?

**Author's Note:**

> i am deceased.

Long after Patrick falls asleep, David keeps his eyes open even as he curls further into his fiance’s embrace.

He can’t stop thinking about Patrick’s suggestion, how unexpectedly appealing he managed to make it sound with his lowered, soft voice. 

_ “Hey, what if we got married here?” _

_ “What if we got married under a highway overpass?” _

_ “I’m serious. This place means something to you guys. Put a tent in the back, string up some lights. You could make it beautiful.” _

So David said he’d think about it, because the entire suggestion set off an uncontrollable round of shocks down his spine, lighting his nerves up in a way their venue visit just hadn’t, and it made absolutely no sense.  It would have been absolutely out of the question when he first arrived in Schitt’s Creek, more of a nightmarish sleep paralysis episode than a good idea for one of the most important days of his life. 

But he’s here, years later, still in this town that has brought him so much.  _ Taught _ him so much. Coaxed out a version of himself that never would’ve existed if he stayed where he was. And he still has his standards, still has his unwavering taste. 

But maybe that’s the thing. Maybe his taste has changed. 

Because now he’s picturing it, planning their wedding to take place just behind the motel. And it’s not a blurry picture, not something muddy and distasteful. He knows how to make things beautiful under the worst circumstances. He’s been doing it to himself for years. 

He could transform it into something memorable. As memorable as all of the years he’s lived here. 

“Hey,” Patrick mutters sleepily, pressing his nose into the nap of David’s neck as he lets out a long breath. 

“I thought you were asleep,” David whispers back, closing his eyes and letting a smile curve his lips. 

“Your very loud thinking woke me up.”

David rolls his eyes and turns to face him, unable to resist running a thumb along his stubbled cheek when he meets his eyes in the dark of the bedroom. Everything about him is warm and inviting, a reminder of how lucky David is to even be marrying him at all. 

“I was thinking about what you said earlier...I haven’t stopped thinking about it, actually.”

“You’re actually listening to me for once?” Patrick teases, leaning into his touch. 

David glares at him before he continues. “I just–I’m having trouble...accepting and understanding why it even makes sense to me?”

Patrick smiles, then, because of course he does. He’s always found David’s existential crises amusing, always been so strangely enchanted with his inability to compromise or settle. 

“David,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “You’ve told me yourself. Before you moved here, you barely knew anything about your family. You knew what trouble they got in, or how many pills they took in a day, or when they took the private jet, but you didn’t know them. You didn’t until you moved into that motel. You didn’t until you were forced to see them every day without a haze of drugs and alcohol between you all.”

David’s eyes are already filling with tears from the truth Patrick is so casually throwing at him. He knows all of this already, has known it for a long time. He just never thought he’d be this person. The kind who can’t imagine not being in a place like this anymore. The kind who likes seeing his family every day, who gets upset at the thought of Alexis leaving and his parents moving on. 

“You may have spent most of your life in luxury, but you grew up  _ here _ , in that motel, on these streets, in our store. You’re  _ you _ because of this town, and I think the hatred and disgust that you felt for it when you first got here is long gone.” Patrick intertwines their fingers and leans up on his elbow, expression serious. “I want our wedding to be everything you ever dreamed of. Like I said before, if you’re happy I’m happy. And I think this is where you’re happiest, whether you thought that was possible or not.” 

David stares at him for a moment, trying as hard as he can to push down the lump that’s formed in his throat, and a conversation with his mother pops into his head out of nowhere. 

_ He sees you, for all that you are. _

It seems like forever ago now, and in the moment it had seemed so terrifying, so out of David’s realm of experience. But he knows now that she was right, that Patrick does see him. He sees every little quirk, every stubborn, unattractive, and annoying piece of him.

He loves him. Heart and soul. 

David leans in, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing his brain to shut off as their lips slide together, soft and familiar. It’s just like their first kiss, quiet, sure, a promise of something good. He lets it consume him, lets himself imagine that tent and those lights, Stevie beaming at him as his best man, his and Patrick’s parents in the front row, basically the entire town population crammed onto the field, chatty and loud and more supportive than anything David has ever known. 

He keeps picturing it as they settle back down, as Patrick wraps him in his arms once more. 

“There’s no chance of you sleeping tonight, is there?” Patrick murmurs behind him. 

“No. No there’s not,” David replies, chest warming. 

With a soft laugh, Patrick sits up, tugging at David’s arm. “Alright, come on. Grab your planner. I’ve been meaning to keep working on a song anyway.” 

So they sit in the living room, David sketching and annotating while soft chords fill the apartment, until the sun peeks through the blinds and kisses them good morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me @patrickbrewcr on twitter and tumblr!


End file.
